The fate of men
by Tinni
Summary: Tells the tale of Beren's journey beyond the confines of Ea. Happy birthday Le Chat Noir. Please read and review since good or bad I love hearing peoples comments.


Fate of Men

**Author's note:** So here it is, as for Gûrrîn speaking Sindarin, Beren only spoke Sindarin and it just made for sense to have her speak every tongue of Arda than Beren suddenly know Quenya. Also a big thanks to Lady Legrace for Beta reading. An additional note to this is that no this is not AU, there is a passage in the Silmarillion were it says that none know where the souls of men go after death for none have returned to report it save Beren son of Barahir and he spoke to know living man afterwards.

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They said their sorrowful goodbyes, gazed at each other one last time, and parted for what both believed to be forever, for such is the sundered fate of men and elves.  What ill fate was it that led the steps of Beren into the heart of Doriath?  No, it was not ill fate.  Was it not enough that he had seen and been seen by a maiden so fair in body and soul as Lúthien, daughter of Thingol?  Yes, yes, it was enough.  They would meet again.  When the fires of Eä burnt to cinder, surely Ilúvatar would bring together his children and let them dwell mingled in a place that was perfect and unmarred.

"Certainly the Edain and Eldar will meet again," came a voice both soothing and frightening.  Beren jumped.  Shrouded in his thoughts, he had passed out of the confines of Eä without even realising it.  "A pity that."  It was a woman's voice, realised Beren.  "You missed the stunningly beautiful gateway of Eä.  No matter, you may yet see it."

"That… is good to know," replied Beren as he stained his eyes to see through the thick white fog surrounding his… body!  He had a body.  When did he get a body?

"As soon as you passed through the gate a body, perfect and forever young, was given to you."  The voice informed him.  "Do you like it?"

Beren took a moment to evaluate his new body.  It felt… perfect.  "Yes, yes, I do."  He replied, "Thank you, whoever you are."

Amused laughter, "Well at least you didn't scream 'Show yourself' like everybody else I have met recently," came the voice, "As for the body, thank Eru for that.  It is by the fate he decreed for men that you have been granted this perfect body, which even the noblest of the elves would envy," she assured him. "As for me," the fogs cleared ever so slightly, revealing a woman with long onyx black hair and deep night black eyes, deathly pale and blood red lips.  Strange clothes she wore of many colours, and flute she clasped in her left hand.  "I am Gûrrîn youngest sister of Yavanna. Together with my sisters, I represent the stages of being. Yavanna is, of course, the power of birth, of life itself.  Vána, the ever young, oldest after Yavanna, is the power of youth.  Upon the elves, the power of Yavanna and Vána are the strongest, for the elves, by the decree of Eru, do not die unless they fade or are slain.  In that, my shadow is upon them but only slightly.  We have another sister, younger than Vána, and with old age is her business.  Upon mortals, all four of us hold sway.  Life, youth, old age, and death, mortals go through them all."  She tilted her head to regard Beren closely for a moment.  "Not that you would know much about old age."

"No, I suppose I don't," replied Beren softly.  "I suppose in this age of war, your sister's… stage is overlooked by many Edain."

"Unfortunately or fortunately, whichever way you would like to look at it, that is true," Gûrrîn agreed,  "But come," she continued, with a broad smile, "Your parents wait."

***

He followed the tune of her flute, the flute of the dead, through the fog of the afterlife.  Here and there, the fog would clear and show him the lives, or rather the afterlives, of men. Once, the fog cleared to reveal to him Bëor the Old and his people, whom he led into Beleriand.  They were gathered together around the fire, singing and dancing, even as they had been when Finrod Felagund first found them.  In the background, Beren swore he heard the voice of Finrod as he harped and sang along with the men.  He stopped and listened in wonder: how was this possible?  Did Finrod not reside in the Halls of Mandos?

"Oh, Finrod is in the Halls of Mandos, though he will not be there for long.  His deeds in Endor have more than made up for his… lack of judgment in going to Endor after the prophecy of the North was spoken," Gûrrîn addressed Beren's unspoken questions.  "But it was the desire of Bëor to at least hear the voice of Finrod, if he could not meet his friend.  It will be many, many, many ages until the two meet again.  However as he wished it, he hears the voice of Finrod the beloved.  For you see," she continued, "that is the ultimate gift of Eru to men.  When men die, they come here. Here they are granted a place all their own, a place that is shaped and filled according to the thoughts and wishes of the men who inhabit them and are enriched by their deeds during their time in Eä.  Thus it is with Bëor and his people.  They wished to dwell together and wanted to be as they were when they first came to Beleriand, happy, free from care and fear.  They wanted those joyful, peaceful years to stretch for eternity, so their thoughts shaped their surroundings and their desires were fulfilled."

"I see," whispered Beren as he continued to watch the men and women dance and sing gaily around the fire.  "Is it always like that?" he wondered aloud.

"Sometime the thoughts of men are not so pleasant," came the reply.  "Sometimes their desires are base and corrupt, their deeds in Arda vile and black.  They suffer appropriately."  

The mist cleared once more in a different direction than where Bëor and his people dwelt.  This time, Beren saw a sight he wished he never had.  For there was a man surrounded by the most deadly serpents, his body already covered in many bite marks, and it twitched in pain and agony.  "His name is not remembered in your history," Gûrrîn told him, "but it was he who impersonated Amlach, grandson of Marach, when he and Bereg of the house of Bëor discontented your people, which led to Bereg leading some of your people away from Beleriand [1].  A traitorous snake in league with Morgoth was he, dying, his thoughts twisted his place of abode into what you see, a den of snakes where he will remain in perpetual agony, seeking death but not receiving it, being dead already."

"But…" cried Beren.  "Is there no hope for him?"

"Hope… if his thoughts change, then what is now foul will become fair, but as yet his thoughts have not changed," explained the Ainu.  "Sometimes, the afterlife is a punishment because the mortal involved believes he needs to be punished." 

This time the fog cleared to reveal Gorlim.  Ahead of him stood his wife Eilinel, but, try as he might, he could not reach her.  She always remained ahead him, just beyond his reach.  "In betraying your father and his comrades, Gorlim laid a heavy burden upon his conscience [2], a burden that is not yet lessened to a degree that he will allow himself to have joy and be reunited with the woman he holds so dear." Then she faced him, and Beren perceived she was sad, "But sometimes, if the afterlife is gloomy, it is not the fault of the man or in this case a woman."  

The fog cleared once more and Beren saw a woman, beautiful and wise.  She sat beside a clear lake, the ground beneath her was grey, the trees surrounding her were black and barren, and the sky above her was cheerless.  "Her name is Andreth, and like you, she fell in love with an elf [3].  In her case, Aegnor, the bold brother of Finrod, he loved her as well but…  Finrod, who aided you, dissuaded him from taking her to wife, and they both died longing for the other.  Now, she sits here in gloom, her place of dwelling matching the state of her spirits and he… he will not leave the halls of Mandos until the ending of Arda, for without her, his life even in the blessed realm would be sad and grey."

"Is this going to be the fate of myself and Lúthien?" wondered Beren.

She smiled than, a soft comforting smile.  "That you will have to wait and see.  But come now, we are already rudely late."

When the fog cleared, Beren found himself in a place that looked and felt exactly like Dorthonion, but Dorthonion as it was during the years of long peace.  There he saw his parents, standing in front of their house, the light of joy and peace shining upon their face.  "Ada, Ammë!" cried Beren.

"Beren, my son," called Barahir in joy, his facing becoming even more bright and joyful now that he was reunited with his son.  Beren rushed forward and found himself in the arms of his father and mother and Barahir and his wife Emeldir were content and glad.  Nothing else was wanting to them.  However, in the heart of Beren lay a shadow, the shadow of Lúthien.  Therefore, it was that when Beren had told of all that had passed since the passing of Barahir, he fell into dark despair that began to change the surrounding of his parents' dwelling for the worse.  So Beren called to Gûrrîn and asked her to take him away.

"Come then."  She said but would not reveal where he was being taken.  However, Beren guessed that now he would be shown to his own place of abode, which his thoughts would render dark and gloomy like the dungeons of Sauron.  Wrapped in his thought, he followed the flute of Gûrrîn blindly.  However, suddenly the tune stopped.

Looking up, Beren found himself standing in front of a gateway with a shimmering portal in its centre.  Curved out of stone, the gateway depicted the theme of birth, Beren saw images of newborn babies, both elven and mortal, he saw children of animals and saplings of trees.  It did not take long for Beren to realise that he was standing in front of the gateway that led into Eä. "What are we doing here?" he asked.

"In the beginning all men knew what you just saw," she told him, not answering his question, "Then Morgoth laid his enchantments about them, and men did not remember where they were bound.  Maybe those men will never truly remember or care, for that matter, where they will go after death.  Regardless, it is not for you to enlighten them."  Beren gave her a confused look.  "We shall meet again, Beren, son of Barahir."  

Even as she said that Beren heard the summons of Mandos, taking one last look at the surprisingly fair face of death he stepped through the portal, returning once again within the confines of Eä and to the side of fair Lúthien.

*******

**Translations:**

Gûrrîn = Gûr means death or heart and rîn means crowned maiden or queen. So I guess Gûrrîn can be Death crowned maiden.

Ammë = mother

Ada = Father

Endor = Middle Earth

**Reference:**

[1] _The Silmarillion_ Chapter 17

[2] _The Silmarillion_ Chapter 19

[3] "Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth", in: _HoMe, Volume 10, Morgoth's Ring_


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